


Someone to Follow

by Impala_Chick



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Allison Argent & Lydia Martin Friendship, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Banshee Lydia Martin, Banshee Powers, Character Turned Into a Ghost, Community: spook_me, F/M, Ghosts, Haunted Stiles Stilinski, Haunting, Pre-Relationship, Spook Me Multi-Fandom Halloween Ficathon, Spooky
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 14:17:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,819
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16431011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Impala_Chick/pseuds/Impala_Chick
Summary: Something, or someone, starts haunting Stiles. It creeps him the hell out.





	Someone to Follow

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Halloween! Nothing too graphic in this except some jump scares and blood. Based off [this prompt](https://images14.fotki.com/v390/photos/6/3814576/14859667/KK6_1CuriousTaleCover_nnmj36-vi.jpg) (SFW) from Spook_Me 2018!

Stiles fell asleep fairly quickly, which was a surprise. Lately he had been in the habit of pacing his room, or listening to music well into the early morning, instead of sleeping.

But the accomplishment was short lived.

His window shutters slammed against the glass of his bedroom window repeatedly, and he shot up in bed, initially surprised. Nothing to fear though. He must have left the window slightly open.

So he climbed out of bed, almost laughed at himself, and slammed the window shut. 

It must have been getting windy now that fall was approaching. No big deal. 

\---

The next night, Stiles feel asleep on schedule. Until his bedroom door slammed shut without warning. The noise was so loud that it immediately woke Stiles. He swiveled his head around wildly, willing his eyes to adjust to the darkness. His only thought was that someone must have walked into the room. Someone must have been looking for him.

He was almost too afraid to get out of bed. Once he could finally see in the dark, he pushed the covers aside. He swung his leg over and slowly stood up, still scanning the room. He was most definitely alone.

He climbed back into bed almost believing the whole thing hadn’t happened. Except his door was closed, and he didn’t remember closing it. He stared at it for awhile, unable to fall asleep. 

\---

On the third night, he started to notice the pattern. 

He was asleep when his dresser drawer slammed shut. The first _bang_ of the drawer slamming closed woke him, but then another drawer slammed shut and made his blood run cold. By the time the third drawer slammed shut, Stiles’ eyes had adjusted. He could clearly see the top drawer being pulled all the way out, and then being forced back in along its track until it hit the inside of the dresser with a _bang_ sound. 

After that, silence. 

Stiles looked around frantically, and hopped down off the bed just to grab the baseball bat from underneath it. But there was no one in the room with him. 

Surely there had to be an explanation.

Stiles flipped on his desk light and opened up his laptop. He spent all night Googling crazy things like _wind event_ or _gravity anomaly_ or even _haunted houses on Woodbine Lane_. He couldn’t find anything exactly like what he’d experienced.

Besides, if there was a ghost, the lore said it would stick to a pattern. Maybe do the same things over and over. Or act at the same time every night. 

\---

In the light of day, at school, the whole ghost theory seemed really dumb. So Stiles kept it to himself. He came to regret that decision.

Maybe this ghost, or demonic energy, or whatever it was knew he had thought about snitching. Or maybe it was just having an extra bad day. Either way, it got real weird real fast. He had barely fallen asleep, when a loud tapping sound roused him. He didn’t even bother sitting up. He couldn’t tell where the sound had come from. He looked towards his door, and the hallway night light illuminated the crack between the door and the floor. The hairs on the back of his neck stood up, and for some reason he couldn’t look away from the light. He reminded himself to breath, and his exhale was visible, a white cloud in the suddenly cold air. 

He waited.

A dark shape crossed in front of the door and blocked out the light. Stiles sucked in a breath, and looked over at his clock. 12:32. 

Stiles looked back at the door. The figure moved away, and Stiles relaxed. His breath wasn’t visible anymore. He figured that was a sign that he was safe again. He went back to sleep, or tried to anyway.

\---

Stiles decided to test out the time theory the next night. He lay awake in bed, in the dark, and gripped this thighs under his blanket to keep his hands from shaking. He stared at this bedside clock, its numbers giving off a pale blue glow. 

He stared at the cock and watched the time tick by, painfully slow. He remembered the clock at 12:01.

But he must have drifted off, because he blinked and looked again. 12:47. 

And then his bed shook. The bed shook so hard the headboard slammed against the wall. Stiles gripped his sheets, and his heart pounded in his ears. He couldn’t even move. He felt glued to the bed. If something or someone tried to attack him right now, he’d be helpless. And then just as quickly as it started, it was over.

He looked around at the other objects in his room, but nothing else had moved. Definitely not an earthquake.

And the entity was not bound by time.

Or maybe it only could come out when he was asleep. Maybe it was only awake from midnight to 1 a.m. Or maybe it didn’t obey any mortal rules at all. 

Maybe it was time to admit he had a ghost problem.

\---

Now that he thought about it, it was really weird that the ghost hadn’t done anything to harm him. But he wasn’t going to stand by and hope that he stayed in the spirit’s good graces.

“Lydia, I need to tell you something.” He had his hand on his hip as he stood over her. She was sitting at one of the green benches outside, and they had just finished eating lunch. 

Lydia flipped her hair and stared up at him, her lips pressed together like they do when she is assessing something or someone. She gestured for him to continue.

“I think something is in my house. And I want you to hold a seance. Talk to it.” 

She opened her mouth to protest, but the look on his face must have stilled her. 

“Think of this as a personal favor,” he pressed. He didn’t want to say he was out of options and if he didn’t figure this out he might never sleep again, but he was seriously contemplating saying that much to make Lydia see reason. 

She sighed. 

“I don’t think it will work,” was what she finally said. 

“Can you just try?” Stiles knew he sounded desperate, but he didn’t care. This was _Lydia_. She knew all the worst things about him, after the Nogitsune. She saw him when his mind felt like it was cracking in half, when he wanted to kill himself. She wouldn’t judge him now.

She stood up, her pointer finger raised. “Fine. One condition.” 

“Name it.” Stiles fell in step with her as she started to walk back to class.

“We can’t tell Scott.”

Stiles paused. She drove a hard bargain. But Scott had been a mess, after. He blamed himself, of course, and they had been taking turns checking up on him and bringing over food. If Scott knew people could communicate from beyond the veil, who knew what kind of crazy stuff he would try to do. Stiles hated keeping secrets, but Lydia was right, and Stiles told her so. 

She agreed to come over that night, after dark. She told Stiles to be prepared to find more questions than answers. 

Stiles didn’t know what she meant.

\---

Stiles had never been to a seance, but he was pretty sure he should have bought a few more candles. He only found three in the house, so he arranged them all in a semi-circle in the living room on the table. His dad, thankfully, was at work. He didn’t want his Dad to think he was losing his mind again. 

He kept standing up and sitting down, and his hands felt shaky. 

There was a knock on the front door, and Stiles jumped. He quickly regained his composure, because it had to be Lydia. He was the one who had invited her. But he couldn’t keep himself from thinking how it was already dark. The ghost could show up at any time. He got up and ushered Lydia in, and she stared at him with a worried, maternal look on her face.

“Lydia, don’t look at me like that. I just have a fuckin’ ghost roaming around my house and it won’t leave me alone, but you know. It could always be worse. It’s not like anyone is currently dying right now. Because someone is already dead. I think?” Stiles took a deep breath and pushed his hand through his hair, frustrated at himself for being so on edge. 

“It’s going to be okay, Stiles.” Lydia smiled hopefully at him, and he relaxed just a bit. Then, she glanced over at the three white candles on the table and laughed. 

“I don’t think I need those,” she said as she headed up the stairs. “You said it’s happening in your room, right? We go there. And get me a piece of paper and a pen.”

Stiles pushed past her to dash up the stairs. He grabbed a pad of paper and a black pen from his desk. He glanced over at his dresser. All the drawers were closed. He also checked to make sure the window was closed and locked. He could feel Lydia watching him as soon as she entered his room.

She walked over and touched the dresser and then the window. Stiles didn’t think her abilities relied on touch, but maybe she was just trying to build up the suspense. Set the mood. Get in touch with her zen, or something.

“I’m just trying to communicate with the spirit. See if it is in here.” Lydia answered his unasked question.

“Well, is it?” Stiles was pacing his room, clicking and unclicking the pen he still had in his hand. He noticed all his manic movement, and tried to sit down at his desk chair. 

Instead of answering, Lydia sat down at the edge of his bed and closed her eyes. It was quiet for about 2 seconds before Stiles had to say something.

“Am I just supposed to sit here, or?” 

“Stiles, please. Just put the piece of paper and the pen over here.” She gestured next to her on the bed, and then closed her eyes.

Stiles promptly got up and sat next to Lydia, and placed the pad and pen in between them. He tried to take deep, steadying breaths in order to calm himself. But then the hairs on the back of his neck started to stand up, and the room felt chilled.

He glanced up, and watched as Lydia’s eyes flew open. But they were unfocused, unseeing. Her hand reached for the pen, and Stiles could tell she wasn’t acting of her own volition. 

Then pen scratched against the paper as she started to write. She was looking up, over Stiles’ shoulder, with that vacant look on her face. Just the sight of her like that made Stiles’ stomach churn. Her wrist moved faster and faster, and Stiles glanced down. 

_Follow him. Follow him._ Written over and over. Those two words already filled half the page. A chill went down Stiles’ spine.

Then, Lydia’s eyebrows shot up. She was seeing again. She sucked in a breath and visibly recoiled, but didn’t get up from the bed. 

“I know you,” she whispered, seemingly surprised.

Stiles cautiously peered over her shoulder, where Lydia was looking, her mouth agape. But Stiles couldn’t see anything. She seemed to be listening to someone, and the pen out of her fingers and hit the ground. Suddenly, her eyes widened in recognition. She stood up, and her eyes started to well up with tears.

“Who is it? What’s going on?” Stiles reached out to touch Lydia and tried to quell the feeling of panic clawing at his chest. Lydia pushed past him, barely acknowledging him, to stand in front of something Stiles could not see. He watched, helpless.

“Why?” Lydia asked, her voice shaky. If there was a response, Stiles didn’t hear it. Then, the weirdest thing happened. Lydia laughed, and her whole body shook. Like she was relieved. 

“Fine, I’ll tell him. Anything else?” Lydia asked, her hand now on her hip. Stiles did a double take. Her affect had changed so quickly he thought he was going to get whiplash.

Lydia nodded, and then turned back to Stiles. He was sure he looked bewildered, but Lydia smiled at him, and he figured it was all going to be okay.

“Well?” Stiles prompted.

“It’s, uh.” Lydia took a deep breath. “It’s Allison.” 

Stiles felt like he had been punched in the gut. He stumbled backwards to sit on his bed again. 

“Then why the HELL is she trying to scare the shit out of me?” Stiles said as he crossed his arms, angry at first. 

Lydia shrugged. “It’s kinda funny in retrospect, don’t you think?” 

Stiles scowled in the general direction where Lydia had been addressing Allison. It hit him then. He was being _haunted_. By Allison Argent. Who was now a ghost. He had a million questions.

“Why can’t I see her? Is she still here? Why not haunt Scott?” 

Lydia held up her hand to quiet him. 

“Look, she chose you. She’s not ready to leave yet, and they told her she has to choose one person. She wants to be able to follow you, see what you see. She said Scott doesn’t deserve to be haunted.” Lydia seemed to be going over a mental checklist, and she glanced over to where she had been talking to Allison. 

Those tidbits just prompted more questions. None of it made sense. Who had told her to choose? Could Allison talk to his mother?

“And you won’t be able to see her right away. You have to try really hard to see her, be open to it,” Lydia continued. 

“Is she going to keep slamming doors at night? Is she always going to follow me?” Stiles grit out, annoyed. It was pretty fascinating that there were ghost rules and all, but was he just supposed to go back to normal life knowing that Allison was watching him?

“Maybe,” Lydia said mysteriously. She glanced over at Allison then, and nodded.

“She says she can only be with you when it’s dark.” Lydia waved then, and turned her attention fully to Stiles. Apparently, Allison had taken her leave.

Stiles sighed and threw himself down on his bed. It was going to take a minute for him to wrap his head around this. 

\---

After Lydia had left, Stiles paced his room. He realized he probably should have been more supportive of Lydia - she was the one who had seen her dead best friend, after all. But Lydia made some weird comments about having talked to Allison before, so Stiles didn’t press her. He kept wondering whether Allison had returned to this room, but nothing slammed shut or made loud noises so he guessed she was staying away. Wherever “away” was.

In the early morning, just before the sun came up, he went for a walk. When he felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up, he quickly glanced over his shoulder. He stopped and squinted, but he couldn’t see anything.

He made it to the edge of the preserve, and walked along the edge of the creek. He did not have a place in mind, he literally just wanted to be far away from his room until the sun came up. But then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw a flicker of something. A shadow. Stiles stopped.

He slowly turned to face the water, and looked down, not at all prepared to see her. He stumbled backwards, horrified at first. There was so much blood. All over her clothes. From that night. He glanced over his shoulder, cast his eyes all around him. But he couldn’t see her.

“Fuck,” he swore under his breath. But he steeled himself to look back into the water. She was there, in the reflection. He focused on her face this time, and she gave him a tiny smile. Her face looked normal. Beautiful. Like it did when she was alive.

She didn’t speak, and neither did he. He wasn’t ready for that yet. He had a million questions before, but now, seeing her face, he just wanted to appreciate the fact that she was here. He kept trying to avoid looking at all the blood, but it was just apart of her ghostform. It was impossible not to notice, and looking at it more made Stiles feel infinitely sad instead of scared. He gave her a small nod and a wave, the only comfort he could offer, and she seemed to understand. He blinked and she was gone, and Stiles whirled around to look for her, but noticed nothing out of the ordinary.

Except the sun was coming up.


End file.
